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She comes without hesitation. Lets me pull her in.

And Lord, when she’s standing this close… Goddamn.

She smells like soap and heat and something wild underneath it. Her hair’s a little mussed from moving around all morning, and there’s flour on her shirt like she baked something with love and probably just a hint of menace. Her eyes are wide and curious, lips parted like she’s already imagining what I’m gonna do to her now that I’ve got both hands free.

Smart girl.

“You sure know how to make a man feel welcome,” I murmur, my voice low and lazy as I slide my palm up her back. “First you steal me, then you feed me, then you kiss me like you mean it.”

She laughs, just a little, and I swear it lands somewhere deep in my chest.

“You’re not mad?” she asks, teasing. Testing.

I smile, slow and sure. “Darlin’, I’ve never felt more taken care of in my life.”

She blushes.

And hell, if that doesn’t flip some switch in me.

I dip my head, letting my nose skim along her jaw, her cheek, slow enough that she shivers. Her skin’s soft and warm and smells like sugar and sin. My lips brush her neck, and her breath catches, barely, but I feel it.

I don’t need to pin her. I don’t need to growl or take. I just hold her. Hands at her waist, fingers firm. Mouth brushing hers, soft as a promise.

“You don’t have to work so hard to convince me, sweetheart,” I murmur, close enough our mouths are already touching again. “I was yours the moment you looked at me like I was worth keeping.”

She’s trembling now, just slightly, and I can tell, she’s waiting for the first move. For me to snap, to growl, to devour.

But that’s not how I take what’s mine.

I take my time, and I let her feel it.

“Can I kiss you again?” I ask, even though I’m already leaning in.

Her nod is barely a breath, and then I kiss her.

Slow and thorough.

She tastes like something warm. Like shepherd’s pie and trouble. Her lips part and I deepen it, one hand sliding up her back, the other down to cup her hip, holding her against me like I’ve been waiting years to touch her like this.

She moans into my mouth.

And just like that, I know she doesn’t want me gentle. She wants me steady. Sure.

I pull back just a fraction, just enough to feel her gasp, and let my thumb trace along the curve of her waist.

“You feel that?” I whisper.

She nods, breathless.

“Good. ‘Cause I got a hell of a lot more where that came from.”

She nods again, lips parted, her breath coming soft and fast against my mouth like she doesn’t even realize she’s panting.

I tilt my head, kiss her again, deeper now, slower. Like we’ve got nowhere to be and all the time in the world to ruin each other.

She melts into it, presses her body flush to mine. And damn, that’s all it takes.

My hands roam, slow and steady. I slide them under her shirt, palms skimming hot skin, the soft dip of her lower back, the curve of her waist. She arches into me when my thumbs brush the underside of her ribs, like her body’s already trained to respond to mine.